


Enjoy the Silence

by Powerfulweak



Series: Wednesday Addams!Castiel [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demi or Ace! Cas, F/M, High School AU, Jock!Dean, M/M, Open to Interpretation, Pseudo Goth!Cas, Wednesday Addams!Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 12:03:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3568919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Powerfulweak/pseuds/Powerfulweak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel meets the Winchester for dinner and Dean gets to know the Addamses a little better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enjoy the Silence

**Author's Note:**

> There's no way I could leave this fic alone.
> 
> This is not going to be a long fic, per se, but I would like to revisit it at different moments in Dean and Cas' relationship. I have some ideas of what's coming next.
> 
> Title comes from the Depeche Mode song of the same name. Original story prompt by[Interncastiel](http://interncastiel.tumblr.com/)

Dean glances at his surroundings curiously. Stone angels and slabs of granite engraved with names and dates are littered across the landscape. He and Castiel sit side-by-side on a bench in the center of a nearby cemetery. Dean will admit that it's creepy, but not overly so. The fresh layer of snow over the ground and headstones makes it seem brighter and less eerie.

Dean exhales, watching his breath fog in the cold air. He looks over at Castiel, who is staring strangely into the empty space in front of him. They’ve been going out as it were only a short while, just over a month. Dean has learned much about Castiel, but somehow the boy still remains a mystery to him. He’s a puzzle, but Dean enjoys unlocking him.

Dean watches him quietly. Castiel wears a strange expression that’s not quite a smile, but conveys a sense of peace and satisfaction none the less. It takes Dean a second, but he realizes that it’s the same expression that corpses wear at a funeral.

“So… this is where you like to hang out?” Dean asks, breaking the silence between them. Castiel turns his head stiffly and glances at Dean.

“Yes, I find it relaxing,” he answers. “There is a lot of history in this place.” Dean nods, scanning the area absently once more.

“Yeah, I bet,” he mumbles. He rubs his ungloved hands together briskly, attempting to warm them.

“There are even a few members of my own family here,” Castiel continues. He tilts his head, sparing a glance across the cemetery. “We buried my Aunt Hester here when I was young.” Dean frowns at this admission.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says. “When did she die?”

“Not long after that,” Castiel answers. He reaches a hand out of his long dark coat and slides it into Dean’s icy palm. Dean smiles and twines their fingers together, enjoying the comforting warmth.

Dean is always surprised by the warmth of Castiel, not just physically but personality-wise as well. Castiel may be a little strange, or perhaps macabre at times, but he really is a wonderful person. Dean can talk about anything: football, his parents, his boy-genius brother Sam, his plans for the future. Whatever it is, Castiel will listen with rapt attention, completely focused on whatever Dean is talking about, even if he doesn’t really understand (which is actually more often than not).

Castiel is also surprisingly talkative when he speaks about things he has a passion for. He’ll tell Dean about his efforts to collect a specific genus of insect or something frightening he read about in his family’s history. Castiel’s smiles are few and far-between, but his eyes always light up and his pleasure is unmistakable.

Dean gives Cas’ hand a brief, tight squeeze, but doesn’t releases it.

“So, uh… I told my parents about you,” Dean scratches at the back of his head with his free hand. “I mean… about us dating. Not just about you in general.” Castiel hums in understanding.

“They took it well, I’m gathering?” Castiel asks. Dean nods briefly.

“Yeah, yeah, they, uh… They want to have you for dinner.” Dean babbles out the admission quickly. He likes Cas and he is proud to be in a relationship with him, but introducing your boyfriend to your parents (not long after coming out to them) can be a minefield of awkwardness.

Dean risks a glance at Castiel. He hasn’t said anything. His brows are drawn tightly, like he is deep in thought. After a few seconds, Dean begins to get nervous about Castiel’s lack of response. He opens his mouth, ready to say it was a stupid idea and to forget it, when he finally pipes up.

“I guess that’s alright,” he says hesitantly. “Although, I have been told that Addamses tend to taste quite gamey.” Dean stares at Castiel blankly for a moment before rapidly blinking his eyes and shaking his head.

“No, no, Cas,” Dean says. “They want you to come over and eat dinner _with_ them.” Dean clarifies. Castiel’s expression softens noticeably.

“Oh,” he responds, his voice an odd combo of relief and disappointment. “Well, I suppose that should be fine as well.” Dean smiles and squeezes Cas’ hand once more. It took Dean a couple of days to muster up the courage to tell his parents about Castiel. Their reactions were sort of anticlimactic after all the build up.

Dean’s mother, Mary, just smiled at Dean and gave him a hug, telling him to invite Cas over. Dean found out shortly after that his mother had known about his bisexualty since he was six-years-old and declared that he was going to marry his friend, Aaron Bass.

Dean’s father, John, simply studied Dean, quietly chewing his bite of steak before swallowing, giving a small shrug and mumbling, “ _what your mom said._ ”

“Great!” Dean enthuses. “Would you want to come over on Thursday evening? ”

“That sounds wonderful, Dean,” Cas says. Dean grins brightly and leans over, kissing Castiel lightly on the cheek, causing a warm blush to rise.

“Dean,” he grouses gently, “not in front of my family.” Dean chuckles and draws away. He reaches up and gently turns Cas’ face with the tips of his fingers. He leans forward and presses a kiss against Cas’ lips. Castiel responds easily, moving against Dean.

“Let ‘em watch,” Dean mumbles against Cas’ lips.

* * *

 

John Winchester isn’t a bad guy. He’s not. He’s a good husband and a good father. Oh sure, sometimes he can be a little rough on the boys, maybe a bit too strict, but that’s all of his military training coming back to him. It’s good for Sam and Dean, though. It gives them boundaries and a sense of purpose, something Dean need probably a bit more than Sam to be honest.

When Dean told him and Mary that he was dating someone and that someone was a guy, John wasn’t exactly elated. He wasn’t angry, either; John Winchester is not a bigot and he has no problem with gay people. Hell, he loves that Ellen Degeneres. He can even admit that there may have been more than one drunken hazing while he was in the Marines that ended up with him spooned up against another jarhead on the floor of his barracks room.

Experimentation is part of being young. If Dean wants to test the waters and date a guy, John is willing to support that.

… But for the love of God, did it have to be _this guy?_

Castiel sits at their dining room table, dressed like he is going to a funeral, in a long dark coat and slacks. Dean sits next to him, trying to hide a goofy, lovesick grin. John remembers having the same look on his face when he first met Mary. He wants to be happy for his son, really he does, but he is really beginning to question Dean’s tastes.

His last girlfriend, Lisa, wasn’t like this. She was your normal, bubbly, cheerleader-type; a complete 180 from this guy. If John didn’t know better, he’d think was Dean fucking with them or something.

He glances at Sam, whose eyes flick to Castiel and then to John, giving his dad a confused look. John’s gaze falls on Mary, who just looks at him sternly, silently warning him to watch his P’s & Q’s.

“This is a very brave thing that Dean is doing, John,” Mary said last night as they were getting ready for bed. “We need to be more supportive of him.”

So John will make an effort to be supportive.

“So, uh… Casteel-”

“It’s Castiel, actually,“ he corrects softly.

“Ok, Castiel,” John continues. “How do you and Dean know each other?"

“We have English together,” Dean pipes up between bites of food.

“Dean, chew with your mouth closed,” Mary admonishes. Dean mumbles an apology and swallows.

“We’re also in biology,” Castiel adds.

“Cas is one of the smartest guys in class,” Dean offers. “Hands down.” John snorts lightly.

“Well maybe some of those brains will rub off on you,” he points a fork in his son’s direction. “Get your grades up.”

“I must disagree with your assessment, sir,” Castiel interjects. “Dean’s intelligence is far above average. I don’t believe he needs any assistance in that area. His work ethic does require some improvement, though.” John stops mid-chew and levels his gaze on the strange boy. If it was any other kid, John would say something about not contradicting your elders.

The kid isn’t wrong, though. Dean is lazy, or at least he is when he’s not interested in something and that boy has never been interested in school. John looks back at his meal and nods slowly, but saying nothing.

“So Castiel, tell us a little about yourself,” Mary says, breaking the silence. “Are you involved in any… school activities or anything?” John shoots Mary a sly, confused look. He knows she’s trying to be polite, but this boy doesn’t really look like the “involved” type.

Castiel hums in thought. “Not at the moment, no,” he replies. “I was assisting with the Drama Club prop and costume department for a short while, but we had some disagreements during the production of Macbeth.”

“Oh?” Mary asks, tearing off a piece of dinner roll and popping it into her mouth. Castiel shakes his head.

“They had no consideration for authenticity when it came to the fight scenes,” he sighs in exasperation. “I can tell you for certain, though, that corn syrup and dish soap is _nothing_ like real blood. I won’t even speak about their resistance to arterial spray.” A small amused smile crosses Castiel’s face while the rest of the Winchesters (save for Dean) just stare at him in bewilderment.

“This is quite good, Mrs. Winchester,” Castiel offers, indicating the meal in front of him. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had this dish before.”

“It’s just spaghetti and meat sauce,” Mary replies with a shrug.

“Well, I quite like it,” Castiel says, twisting his fork around in it. “My family doesn’t cook very often. Our kitchen is utilized for practical purposes. My uncle tends to commandeer it.”

“You live with your Uncle?” Mary asks. Castiel nods.

“He lives with us,” Castiel explains. “My mother, father, brother and I.” John notices a look of surprise cross Dean’s face, as of he was unaware of this fact. John wonders what exactly his son and his… _friend_ talk about when they are together.

Silence falls over the table. John catches Mary’s eye once more, flicking his gaze to Castiel and back. Mary takes a bite of her food and raises an eyebrow, daring John to say one word.

Sam finishes his food first and asks to be excused, rising from the table and dropping his plate into the sink. Dean and Castiel both finish up and look at John and Mary expectantly.

“I’m going to show Cas my room, ok?” Dean asks.

“Leave the door open,” Mary orders.

“ _Mo-om_ ,” Dean gripes as he tugs Castiel by the hand. They deposit their plates in the kitchen and hurry up the stairs. As soon as they are alone, John turns to his wife.

“What...The. Hell?” He gapes. Mary snorts and rolls her eyes. “No, seriously Mary, what the hell?!”

“John, be nice,” Mary scolds.

“I’m trying!” John hisses. “But, I swear, that kid’s screwing with us.”

“Who? Castiel?”

“No, Dean.” John runs a hand through his quickly-graying hair. “I bet this is part of some elaborate prank of something. We’re getting punk’d.” Mary quirks her mouth to the side and considers this.

“I don’t think so,” she says slowly. “I think Dean really likes this boy.” John shakes his head in disbelief.

“Why?” He asks. “Lord, Mary, the kid is so strange! He knows about bloodspray and stuff. He’s like... Dexter or something!” Mary just laughs lightly and rises from her chair. She moves behind John and drapes herself over his shoulders.

“As I recall, John Winchester,” Mary says, resting her chin over his shoulder, “when you met me I wore Doc Martens, had green hair and a tongue piercing.” John slumps, watching as she picks up their plates and walks them into the kitchen. He smiles to himself at the memory of his and Mary’s first few years together. He’d been caught off-guard by the beautiful Riot Girl who’d stolen his heart, but he didn’t regret it for a second.

“Still though...” John searches for a reason, but nothing comes to mind.

“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Mary calls out from the kitchen.

“You were never that strange!” John argues playfully.

* * *

 

Dean pushes open his bedroom door.

“So… this is my room,” he says. Castiel takes a step forward.

“I see,” he glances around the space. “It’s as I expected.” The walls are covered in movie and band posters. There’s a shelf with a few childhood trophies, and a desk in the corner which holds a stack of textbooks and a laptop computer. Above the headboard on the bed is a small ledge, which holds a framed bee as well as a few other keepsakes.

“I, uh… I cleaned up a little,” Dean admits. “I was hoping I could bring you up here.” Castiel turns to Dean and gives his small, pleased look.

“It looks very nice Dean,” he says, slipping his hand into Dean’s.

“C’mon,” Dean pulls him into the room. Castiel settles on the made bed as Dean reaches up to one of the higher shelves and pulls down a set of books.

“This is the series I was telling you about,” Dean says, handing a battered paperback copy of _“The Colour of Magic”_ to Castiel. “I’m actually surprised you haven’t read it before. It’s right up your alley, I think.”

“As am I. Your description made it sound very interesting,” Castiel replies, taking the book from Dean and browsing the back. Dean smiles and settles back on the bed next to Castiel.

“Hey, I gotta ask,” he says after a moment. “How come you never mentioned that you had a brother?” Castiel looks up and blinks at Dean absently.

“It never seemed to be of importance,” he answers.

“Yeah, but I mean… I talk about Sammy all of the time.” Dean leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “You’d think your brother would have come up in conversation at least once?” Castiel sighs and sets the book aside.

“But you adore Sam,” Castiel reasons. “Gabriel is a pest. I should have gotten rid of him years ago. If my parents ever choose to have another child, I shall not make the same mistake twice.” Dean sits up immediately, eyes large in shock.

“Jeez, Cas, that’s kind of dark even for you.” Castiel rolls his eye.

“Oh please. I wouldn’t kill it,” he explains. “I wouldn’t go that extreme. I’d just… sell it to a carnival or something.” Dean grimaces, wondering how exactly that is better.

“I want to thank you, Dean,” Castiel looks to him as he changes the subject.

“For what?” Dean asks. “The book?”

“Well, that too, but…” Castiel takes a deep breath. “Introducing me to your family.”

“Of course, Cas,” Dean answers, as if it is such an obvious gesture. It really is, actually.

“I know I’m not exactly… what people expect and I can be,” Castiel looks to the ceiling as he tries to find the word, “off-putting, I suppose.” Dean shuffles closer to him until their shoulders brush.

“Cas-” he begins, but Castiel shakes his head, cutting him off.

“I know your family means a lot to you and… I appreciate you putting that kind of faith in me,” he continues. Dean shakes his head easily and tips Cas’ chin up so they are looking each other in the eye.

“You’re too special to be hidden away,” Dean says. He leans in and kisses Castiel softly. In their time together, they haven’t gone farther than innocent kisses and hand-holding. Dean is careful with Castiel, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to test the deeper waters.

He kisses him again, deeper this time, feeling a small wave of triumph as Castiel responds in-kind. It takes Dean by surprise as Castiel’s tongue presses at the seam of his lips. Dean parts his mouth, allowing for entrance. He can’t help the small moan that escapes him at the taste of Castiel, like cloves and ice tea. He moves his hands, circling Castiel’s waist as warm fingers cup his cheeks. Dean loves Castiel’s touch, something he gives so rarely and sparingly. He’s caught between enjoying the moment and committing the feeling to memory.

Castiel pulls back first, hands still holding Dean’s face. He stays there, barely inches from Dean, when there is the sound of throat clearing.

“Uh.. Dean?” Sam asks. Dean closes his eyes in frustration.

“What Sam?” He replies, trying to keep his voice level.

“Mom said there’s rhubarb pie,” Sam says. “She’s wondering if you and Cas would like a piece.” Dean’s mood does an instant 180.

“Hell yeah we will!” Dean jumps off the bed, pulling Castiel up by the hand with him. He glances at his boyfriend nervously. “You feel like pie, Cas?” Castiel’s expression doesn’t change, but his eyes light up in such a way that Dean can tell he is pleased.

“Of course, Dean,” Cas replies. “I rather enjoy rhubarb. Did you know the leaves are poisonous and can be used to derive a nephrotoxin?” Dean blinks a few times and then laughs loudly.

“Well, I’m pretty sure my mom doesn’t use the leaves, but the pie is still good all the same.” Dean offers as he pulls Castiel out of his bedroom and down the stairs.

* * *

 

Long after Dean has dropped Castiel off at his house (with one more wonderfully intense kiss), Dean sits in his bedroom. He’s trying to focus on his homework, when Sam knocks on the doorframe.

“Hey, Dean?” He says, walking in unbidden.

“What’s going on Sam?” Dean doesn’t look up from his textbook. Sam sits down at the edge of the bed next to Dean’s feet.

“Your boyfriend is weird,” Sam states plainly.

“So?” Dean replies, keeping his eyes focused on his work.

“Even Mom and Dad think so,” Sam continues. Dean looks at his brother and sighs.

“Cas is just different,” he answers. It’s a refrain that Dean is getting used to repeating. Sam lifts an eyebrow, giving Dean a very _“Sam”_ look.

“It’s more than just different,” Sam clarifies. “Jo says-” Dean growls and shuts his book loudly.

“Look! I don’t care what Jo says, ok?” He snaps. “She’s not dating Cas, I am! Hell, she doesn’t even have to interact with him. It’s none of her business who I go out with. Cas is a great person and he’s kind and interesting and…” Dean trails off, scrubbing a hand over his face. He hates having this argument over and over with each of his friends. He especially hates snapping at his 13-year-old brother.

Sam just stares at him, expression blank, listening to him rant.

“Have you guys… like, done anything together?” He asks. Dean rolls his eyes.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no,” Dean replies. “I don’t actually think Cas wants to.”

“You haven’t asked him?” Dean shakes his head. “And you’re ok with that?” Dean shrugs slightly.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Dean replies. Sam tilts his head and looks at him; Dean can practically hear the gears in his head whirring.

“You really like this guy, huh?” Sam asks. Dean simply nods, not hesitating at all.

“Yeah, I do,” Dean replies with a small smile. Sam smirks as he gets to his feet

“You know… I didn’t say I didn’t like Cas,” Sam says. “He’s… He seems ok.” Dean snorts lightly.

“I appreciate that, Sam,” he responds. “Maybe one day when we’re hanging out, you can tag along. I think you and Cas would have a lot to talk about.”

“That sounds good, Dean,” Sam says. He mumbles a “good night” as he leaves the room, closing the door behind him.  

Dean stands up, shucking off his jeans and flannel in favor of a pair of sleep pants and a soft t-shirt. He crawls under his comforter and stretches back on the bed with a sigh. As he reaches to turn off his light, something catches his eye.

He reaches up onto the shelf above his head and grabs the framed bee. He brings it to eye level, turning it in his hands, over and over, and examining the details. He smiles to himself at the memory of receiving the gift and the adorable way Cas’ cheeks reddened just slightly when he kissed him. Dean replaces the frame on the shelf and clicks off his bedside light.

* * *

 

They are doing test prep in biology when Castiel asks him.

“My family is interested in having you over,” Castiel mumbles, “as our dinner guest.” Dean stops writing and glances at him.

“Seriously?” He asks. Castiel nods as he glimpses at his book and then back at his notebook.

“Yes. My mother heard about your parents’ invite and wants to extend you the same offer.” Dean quirks an eyebrow. He’s been over to Cas’ house barely a handful of times and he has yet to hear his mother say one word.

“Is that viable?” Castiel asks.

“Uh, sure,” Dean answers after a moment.

“Dean, Castiel, less talking, more studying,” Ms. Mills’ warning echoes across the classroom. Both boys turn their attention back to their notebooks. After a moment, Castiel leans over to Dean once more.

“I will warn you, though,” Castiel whispers, “there will be a few other members of my family there as well.”

“Like your brother?” Dean asks. Castiel’s pencil pauses momentarily.

“Him, yes,” he says, “as well as others.” He continues writing and Dean wonders what the hesitation was about.

“Is Friday evening at 6 pm suitable?” Castiel asks. Dean nods and he catches just the barest hint of a smile at the corner of Castiel’s mouth.

“Should I… Do I need to dress a certain way?” He asks. Anytime he’d been at the Addams’ home, it was clear that their idea of casual dress differed from his own family’s. Castiel turns his head and looks Dean up and down.

“How you dress is fine, Dean,” he replies. Dean finds himself preening a little at the compliment.

Ms. Mills calls out another warning against them, and Castiel and Dean both refocus on their books through the remainder of the class.

* * *

 

Dean pulls the Impala up to the curb in front of the large, imposing house. He kills the engine and nervously smooths down the front of his dress shirt. Even though Castiel has said what he wore was fine, Mary wouldn’t let him leave the house until he met her own criteria.

He exits the car and walks up the meandering pathway. As he reaches the front door, Dean is taken aback by the large knocker, sculpted to look like a clawed fist holding an iron ring. Dean pulls back the knocker slowly, and he could swear that the fingers of the fist flex as he does.

The door opens with a heavy creek. Virgil stands in the doorway, staring down at Dean through blank hooded eyes.

“Heya, Virgil,” Dean grins up at the hulking man. Virgil groans lowly in greeting and moves from the doorway, allowing Dean inside. Dean steps into the massive foyer just as Castiel is descending the stairs.

“Hey Cas,” Dean says, grinning up at him. Castiel reaches the bottom, taking Dean’s hand in his.

“Hello, Dean,” he says. “You look very nice.”

“Not so bad yourself,” Dean says, bumping Castiel’s shoulder with his own. Castiel has shed the long, black coat and is dressed in a dark trousers and high collared jacket, white dress shirt peeking out from the collar.

Virgil groans again and Castiel nods toward him in acknowledgement. He takes Dean’s arm and slips it into his own.

“Come, there are people who want to meet you,” he says. Dean lets Castiel lead him down the hall and into the open living room.

A half a dozen heads turn as they enter. Dean immediately recognizes Castiel’s mother, looking suitably pale and ethereal. Castiel’s father ( _“Balthazar, Dean… Please, just Balthazar.”_ Dean remembers) sits at her side, arm tightly wrapped around her narrow waist. There is a younger boy in a black-and-white striped shirt whom Dean doesn’t recognize on the couch next to them. His light brown hair is as long as Sam’s and is tucked behind his ears. He eyes Dean wearily, one brow raised, as he pops a lollipop in and out of his mouth.

“Dean, my Mother and Father as you know,” Castiel nods toward his parents. “This is my younger brother, Gabriel.” Gabriel gives a lazy salute in Dean’s direction before popping the sucker out of his mouth.

“What up, Dean-o?” Dean bristles at the nickname, but says nothing. Castiel pulls his attention to the far corner of the room.

“This is my Uncle Crowley,” Cas says as they approach a stocky, pale-looking man with thinning hair and deep circles beneath his eyes.

“Uncle Crowley, this is the boy I was telling you about.” A wide creepy grin spreads across the man’s face as he offers his hand to Dean.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he says in a thick British accent. “Our Castiel has told us much about you.” Dean smiles awkwardly and shakes his hand. He gives Castiel a questioning look, curious as to what exactly he could have told his family that would have been so interesting.

There is a gruff cough from across the room, followed by a low unintelligible mumble. Dean watches as a couple crosses the room to greet them. The woman is fair and dressed in a similar fashion to everyone else in a dark suit and long skirt.

The man… well, Dean’s pretty sure that it’s a man. At the moment all he can see is hair; Long, thick greyish-brownish hair cascades over the man’s face and down his back.

“This is cousin Cain,” Castiel introduces, “and his wife, Colette.” Cain says something, but it comes out so muddled that Dean can’t catch what he’s saying.

“I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “Could you repeat yourself?”

“He said he’s so glad to finally meet you,” Colette answers in a soft, breathy voice. “Castiel gets very chatty when you’re the topic of conversation.” Dean can’t help laughing softly.

“Chatty. Really?” He glances at Cas who blushes shyly. A heavy hand slaps Dean on the back causing him to lurch forward a few steps.

“Well now,” Balthazar says, coming up behind Dean. “Since we’ve all arrived, why don’t we get started on dinner?” The entire party shuffles into the cavernous space of the dining room, Dean and Castiel trailing the pack.

“I apologize for my family,” he mumbles and he takes Dean’s hand. “I must admit I get a bit loquacious when discussing topics that excite me.”

“I know, Cas. I’ve been there when you talk about bees, remember?” Dean replies, throwing him a playful wink. “I’m happy to know I excite you at least.” Cas squeezes his hand and leads him into the dining room.

* * *

 

Dinner is… interesting.

The food thankfully is recognizable if a little… dark.

“Spaghetti a la Nero de Seppia,” Cas’ mother, Anna, offers in a soft voice. “Pasta made with cuttlefish ink. Castiel mentioned you were a fan of Italian cuisine.” Dean nods and smiles politely, taking a tentative bite. It’s briny with a distinct fish flavor, but if Dean can handle eating Tuna-Fluff-&-Mac Surprise (per Sam’s request), he can handle this.

“Dean,” Crowley pipes up. “Our Castiel doesn’t often bring friends around. What have you done that makes you so unique?” Dean’s eyes widen as he slurps up a single black noodle.

“Uh, well… “ He looks to Cas for some guidance.

“I like spending time with Dean,” Castiel pipes up.

“I don’t really know,” Dean answers. “I think I kind of… bullied my way into being his friend.”

“You’re more than friends,” Gabriel says in a sing-song voice, chin in his hand.

“Gabriel!” Castiel hisses, shooting him an annoyed glare.

“He _likes_ you,” Gabriel continues to tease. “He’s picked out your matching tombstones and-”

**_Twack!_ **

Gabriel is instantly cut off as an arrow flies through the air and embeds itself in the back of his chair, just to the side of his head. Dean twists around, staring wide-eyed at Cas and wondering when ( _and how_ ) he got ahold of a crossbow.

“What have I said about weapons at the table?” Balthazar groans in exasperation.

“No less than three,” Castiel and Gabriel say at once. Balthazar levels a stare at both of his sons.

“But we have a guest tonight.” He extends out his arms and beckons with his hands. “Hand them over.” Castiel and Gabriel both sigh in defeat as they drop an assortment of long-range and hand-to-hand weapons onto the heavy wooden table in front of their father.

“Now, you two, behave,” Balthazar orders.

“We apologize for that, Dean,” Anna offers. Dean shakes his head dismissively.

“No, I get,” Dean replies. “Me and my brother can get into it, too.”

“Oh, you have a brother?” Balthazar asks. Dean nods.

“Yeah, Sam. He’s thirteen,” Dean says. “He’s moving up to the High School next year.”

“Is he cute?” Gabriel asks, popping the ever-present lollipop out of his mouth. “Maybe I should keep an eye out for him? Get to know him?” Dean gives a tight smile and glances at Cas.

“Is he for real?” He hisses. Dean likes Cas, but his brother is a different story. There is no way he’s letting Sam near _this_ guy.

“Gabriel, stop,” Cas warns softly. Gabriel pouts and shoves the sucker back in his mouth. Castiel glances at Dean briefly.

“I apologize for him,” he mumbles.

“I understand your reasons for the carnival folk now, at least,” Dean jokes. There is a low grumble and Dean looks across the table to where Cain and Colette are sitting.

“I didn’t catch that sir,” Dean says.

“Castiel says you play football,” Colette interprets. “Cain wants to know what position you play.”

“Um, running back,” Dean answers. “I was kind of hoping for an athletic scholarship for college, but my grades aren’t quite good enough even for that.”

“Oh, I’m sure Castiel could assist you with that,” Crowley offers. “He is quite clever.”

“I wouldn’t want to bother him with that,” Dean smiles to himself and twirls his fork in his pasta. He knows he could ask for Cas’ help with school work, but he doesn’t want Cas to think that he’s using him just to up his grades.

“It would be no trouble, Dean,” Cas offers, looking at him sincerely. “I would be happy to assist you. Your skill on the field is very comparable to college level players. I’m sure you could secure a scholarship.” Dean is caught off-guard by the sincerity on Castiel’s voice, but the moment is broken by a cackling laugh.

“You’ve watched football, Castiel?” Crowley chuckles. “Oh my, this boy is a bad influence on you!” Castiel’s expression goes dark and he glares at his uncle. Dean feels a soft hand on his wrist, and turns to see Balthazar leaning toward him.

“Ignore Crowley,” he whispers. “He’s just an old coot.” Dean nods and tries to refocus on his dinner, but he still reaches for Cas’s hand, keeping their fingers wound together for the rest of the meal.

* * *

 

After dinner, there is dessert (a rich chocolate cake with a raspberry center… at least Dean _hopes_ it was raspberry). Dean finds himself cornered by Cain as he answers all of his questions (helpfully translated by Colette). In spite of his strange appearance, Cain did seem to be very knowledgeable, especially when the topic fell on cars.

“Cain is a car nut,” Colette supplies. “He rebuilt his Sunbeam Tiger from the ground up.” There is a low mutter and Colette giggles in response. Dean feels an arm wrap around his own and looks up to see Cas by his side.

“Would you like to see our garden?” He asks.

“Oh you must!” Colette coos. “It really is quite lovely.” Dean nods, following as Cas leads them through the large French Doors toward the back of the house.

Dean follows Castiel past numerous statues, each dedicated to one of his deceased relatives. There is shouting and hooting at the far end of the lawn. Dean looks over to see Gabriel and Crowley chasing each other between a small smattering of gravestones and into a decrepit mausoleum.

“They’re playing ‘Wake the Dead,’” Castiel explains without any further explanation. He leads Dean to a stone bench positioned in front of a statue of a woman, her face covered as if she is weeping. Dead and decaying vines curl up and around her arms and neck and spiderwebs knit together the hollow spaces between her elbows.

“Great Aunt Rachel,” Castiel says, admiring the statue. “She lost her husband in the first World War and was so saddened that she locked herself in her bedroom and slowly withered away out of grief.” Dean looks up at the statue and back at Castiel.

“Well, damn,” he mutters.

“This is my favorite spot,” Castiel admits quietly. “It’s solitary. It makes me feel… calm.”

“I can see that,” Dean mumbles, glancing around. The spot is out of sight from most of the yard, and only the muffled calls of Castiel’s family can be heard. Castiel glances at Dean, blue eyes reflecting the soft light coming from the windows of the house.

“My family likes you,” he says.

“You think so?” Dean asks. Castiel hums in the affirmative.

“They do. Cain and Colette are rather taken with you and my parents have spoken often of their regard for you.” Dean smiles. He normally doesn’t worry about getting friends’ (or boyfriend’s, in this case) parents’ approval. For some strange reason though, knowing that that he’s won Cas’ family over causes a strange swell of pride within Dean.

“What about your uncle and brother?” Dean asks. Castiel waves his hand dismissively.

“Their opinion doesn’t matter to me,” he says.

“Well, I’m glad I made a good impression on the rest of them,” Dean admits. “Cain seems smart, although I can’t understand anything he says.” Castiel’s brow furrows deeply.

“Really? That’s hard to believe,” he replies. “He taught allocution lessons for many years.” Dean opens his mouth, ready to ask what those are, when Thing comes scurrying up the path.

“Oh, hello Thing,” Castiel says. Thing bounces along the concrete and flicks up a small card from inside its palm with two fingers. Castiel reaches down and takes the card, reading it carefully before handing it back. “Of course. That shouldn’t be a problem. Be sure to tell mother.” Thing scurries off and Castiel turns his attention back to Dean.

“What’s going on with Thing?” Dean asks. It had taken a little while for Dean to feel less leery  with Castiel’s disembodied hand/ adopted sibling. After a couple weeks, though, Dean felt comfortable enough for Thing to rest on his shoulder while he and Cas studied.

“She just wanted to let me know that she’d prefer if we addressed her as Megan Wallaby from now on.” Castiel gives a small shrug. Dean watches as the hand scampers toward Cas’ parents, who are making out passionately, crushing a well-crafted piece of topiary..

“Oh,” Dean mumbles. “Well, good for Megan.” Castiel looks at Dean, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. He leans over and places his lips softly on Dean’s.

“You’re a rare breed, Dean,” Castiel murmurs. “I don’t I’ll meet someone like you twice in a lifetime.” Dean bites at his lip shyly and looks away.

“You’re one to talk, Cas,” he chuckles. There’s so much more that Dean wants to say, but he feels like any further words would ruin the moment. He lifts his arm and wraps it around Castiel’s shoulder, bringing him close. Dean can’t imagine wanting anything or anyone else the way he wants Castiel. It’s not a physical need or sexual drive, but a warm thrum of companionship and emotional attachment.

They sit there in the quiet darkness, enjoying the silence and comfort of each other as the stars rise and the glow of the moon casts shadows over them..

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [ANobleCompanion](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ANobleCompanion/pseuds/ANobleCompanion) for the WTNV reference idea. 
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](http://powerfulweak.tumblr.com/)


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